Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins Part 31

One of Mohun's men leaped from horseback and tore them apart.

"A sword! give me a sword," exclaimed Mohun, hoa.r.s.ely.

And rising to his feet, he clutched at an imaginary weapon,--his lips foamed with blood,--and reeling, he fell at full length on the body of his adversary, who was bathed in blood, and seemed to be dying.

What is here described, all took place in a few minutes. In that time the enemy's column had been broken, and hurled back. Suddenly the wild Southern cheer rang above the woods. Stuart and Fitz Lee had united their forces; in one solid column they pressed the flying enemy, banging and thundering on their rear with carbines and cannon.

Kilpatrick was defeated; his column in hopeless rout.

"Stuart boasts of having driven me from Culpeper;" he is reported to have said just before the fight, "and now I am going to drive _him_."

But Stuart was not driven. On the contrary, he drove Kilpatrick. Some of the enemy's column did not stop, it is said, before they reached the banks of the Potomac.

Such was the dramatic termination of the last great cavalry campaign of Stuart.

The affair came to be known as "The Buckland Races," and Stuart's old sabreurs still laugh as they recall the comedy.

XIII.

TWO SCENES IN DECEMBER, 1863.

The campaign of October, 1863, was over. Lee was behind the Rapidan.

In December General Meade struck a blow, in turn, at his adversary.

Shall we glance, in pa.s.sing, at that affair of Mine Run? I saw a spectacle there--and a sad one, too--which I am tempted to describe, though aware it has little to do with my narrative. I have left Colonels Mohun and Darke in a b.l.o.o.d.y embrace yonder near Buckland. I ought to relate at length how they were not dead, and how they in due time recovered, but for the moment I think of a fine sight, and a weeping face, which I saw in the woods below Verdiersville.

Let us ride thither, reader, it will not take long.

In December, then, General Meade crossed the lower Rapidan, and advanced to a.s.sail General Lee in his works above.

A fiasco followed. Meade marched toward Verdiersville; found his adversary behind earth-works, near that place; reconnoitered them, felt them, moved backward and forward before them--and then, one morning, before General Lee was aware of the fact, quietly disappeared, returning to the north bank of the Rapidan.

You see I have no battles to describe on this occasion, reader. We had some hard fighting in the cavalry, but I shall not dwell upon that. It is some handsome fire-necklaces, and a talk with an old woman, which I shall speak of.

The fire-necklaces were manufactured by General Meade's troops, just before their retreat. The men had fallen into line at the word; moved silently toward the Rapidan, and had not taken the trouble, in leaving the rebel woods, to extinguish their bivouac fires, amid the thickets, carpeted with leaves. The result was a splendid spectacle. The fires had gradually burned outward, devouring the carpet of dry leaves. Great circles of flame were seen everywhere in the woods, and these dazzling fire-necklaces grew larger and larger, twined together, became entangled, twisted about, sparkled, crackled,--of all the sights I ever saw I think this was the most curious!

From time to time the flames crawled along and reached the foot of some tall tree, festooned with dry vines. Then the vine would catch; the flame would dart through the festoons; climb the trunk; stream from the summit,--and above the blazing rings, twisting in endless convolutions, would roar a mighty tongue of flame, crimson, baleful, and menacing.

It was a new "torch of war," invented by General Meade.

Such was the picturesque spectacle which rose a moment ago to my memory.

Now for the sad scene which I witnessed, as I rode back with Stuart.

Pa.s.sing a small house, a poor woman came out, and with eyes full of tears, exclaimed, addressing Stuart:--

"Oh, child! stop a minute! Are they coming back? They have took every thing I had--they are _not_ coming back!"[1]

[Footnote 1: Her words.]

Stuart stopped. He was riding at the head of his staff, preceded by his battle-flag. Not a trace of amus.e.m.e.nt was seen on his features, as he heard himself addressed in that phrase, "Oh, child!"

"Have they treated you so badly?" he said, in his grave, kind voice.

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the poor woman, weeping bitterly, "they have took every hog, cow, and ear of corn I have, and every thing from my daughter; she is a widow, and lives near us. These are her children, my grandchildren, come to get out of the way."[1]

[Footnote 1: Her words.]

And she pointed to two or three little girls, with frightened faces, and eyes wet with tears.

Stuart seemed deeply affected. Under that stout heart, which never shrunk, was a wealth of sweetness and kindness.

"Well, they are not coming back, my good woman," he said, in a voice of deep feeling. "You need not be afraid--they are gone now."

The poor woman clasped her hands.

"Oh! do you believe that, child!"[1] she said; "do you believe they'll never come back?"

[Footnote 1: Her words.]

"I hope not, at least," Stuart replied, in a low tone.

"She clasped her hands, and for the third time addressing him as 'child,' sobbed:--

"Oh! if they will only never come back!"

That scene affected me deeply. The poor woman's tears brought something into my throat which seemed to choke me. This time the Northern soldiers had been impartial in their marauding. They had not only destroyed the property, and carried off the slaves of the wealthy proprietors, the "bloated aristocrats;" they had taken the bread out of the mouths of the widow and the fatherless--leaving them bare and starving in that bleak December of '63.

War conducted in that manner is barbarous--is it not, reader? The cry of that widow and her children must have gone up to Heaven.

Stuart returned to his bivouac in the pine wood near Verdiersville, where he had slept without tents, by his camp-fire, all these freezing nights. Then the army began to move; soon it resumed its former position; the cavalry was sent to watch the fords of the Rapidan; and Stuart returned to his own head-quarters near Orange Court-House, gayly singing, as he had left them to advance and meet the enemy.

XIV.

STUART'S WINTER QUARTERS.

c.o.o.n HOLLOW!--